Page 1 of Power
ChapterOne
Bailey
Power.
They have it.
I don’t.
They’re somebody.
I’m nobody.
Intimidatedand impressed by the size and scope, the building towers above me, its shining glass windows catching the light of the early morning sun and reflecting it back onto the city below. With its towering walls and ornate doors, its impressive architecture is complemented by the brickwork that lines the ground outside, its unique pattern and colors adding a touch of sophistication to the building.
I lick my lips, nervous and overwhelmed. I’ve had a week to get used to the feeling of having this job in one of the most impressive investment banks in the city of Manchester. I only graduated from university in the summer, and now here I am, about to enter the working world in the finance district surrounded by power and influence. I wasn’t even going to apply for this job, but I threw caution to the wind, not even banking on an interview. I’m fairly sure I only got the job as a low-level assistant because all the other people who applied were overqualified and demanding more money than I was offered, which is peanuts. Still, it’ll be mine and is vastly more than what my part-time job at the coffee shop paid.
So, winning, right?
I wasn’t even interviewed here but rather in the café around the corner. That screamed to me that they were blowing me off.
Inhaling deeply, I glance up again, trying not to feel intimidated. I’m an hour early, not having much clue what rush hour would be like on the commute in on the train. It took twenty minutes with stops, and it was busy, but nothing that slowed me down. But now I’m here at half past seven in the morning when I don’t start until half eight.
I take a sip of coffee from my travel mug, breathing steadily to calm my nerves. If I’m this nervous before I’ve even gone inside, what am I going to be like in a few minutes when I enter the building? It is a symbol of the wealth and power of the people who work there. Standing before it, I feel a sense of awe and admiration as well.
The doors of the building, a huge automatic, revolving pair, slowly swish around, which tells me that business has already started.
Taking a step forward, knowing I’m prepped on the company and my job description, the sweat springs up on my palms. My stomach is twisted in knots. I fight the urge to turn around and run back the way I came.
I gulp back the cool autumn air as I approach the imposing front doors. My anxiety spikes as I step into the revolving doorway in case I trip or get caught. It’s a slow sweep, so that calms me, and I don’t need to rush forward and stumble into the reception area. I’m immediately greeted by a wall of mahogany and glass. The floor is a shining black marble, and the walls are adorned with oil paintings and photographs of the most important members of the firm.
Intimidating doesn’t cover it.
It is a stark reminder of the power that resides within the walls, if I needed one. This is a place of wealth and privilege, of success, money and power.
The furniture is very modern and expensive, with gorgeous leather chairs and mahogany tables piled up with financial magazines and newspapers.
Forcing myself to move forward towards the enormous front desk, I plaster a smile on my face. The receptionist is a stern-looking woman who sits silently behind the counter. She doesn’t crack a smile or offer a friendly greeting. Instead, she stares at me with an unyielding gaze. Her stare makes it clear that she is ready to answer any questions you have, but she isn’t going to be overly friendly about it. She seems to be a symbol of the intimidating atmosphere of the reception area.
The first thing you see when you enter the building, it sets the tone for the rest of the visit. The cold and sterile atmosphere is a reminder that this is a place of business, and that you should act accordingly. It is a reminder that you are entering a world of money and finance, and that it is not to be taken lightly. This is a place where deals are made, and money is exchanged, and that is something that is to be respected.
The thrill of excitement that suddenly rushes through my body, peaks my nipples under my white cotton blouse. I’m dressed in a black business suit with a respectable length skirt and low heels. My dark hair is swept up into a tight neat bun; my green eyes are conservatively made up, and my lips are slightly pinker with a smear of lip gloss. Understated and elegant is what I was going for.
“Hello. I’m Bailey Chase. It’s my first day.” I give the woman a nervous smile.
“And?”
I blink. “Uhm.”
She sighs. “What department?”
“Oh! Sorry, I’m supposed to report to Ms. James.” I could kick myself for sounding like a complete dumbass. Not usually the most confident of people, this place has destroyed any ounce of poise I have to leave me a bumbling idiot.
That only gets worse when a man approaches and pauses, leaning against the counter with what could only be called awickedsmile on his gorgeous, chiseled face. His dark hair is neatly styled, cut short but not too short. His blue eyes sparkle with mischief.
“Miss Chase?” he asks.
“Yes,” I practically pant.
